The Choices We Make
by originalsnookiedarookie
Summary: Connie and Mike are faced with the consequences of their choices and the resulting fallout.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The L&O universe is all Dick Wolf's.

The Choices We Make

Chapter One

She'd never quite enjoyed the fanfare of formal occasions. Dressing up in ball gowns and talking to people who had more money than God held no interest, intellectually or emotionally. Sighing she grasped her champagne glass tightly focusing on the man in front of her, trying to look remotely interested in some conversation about how much money his film company had recently made. Even after growing up here, the narcissism in this town still astounded her.

Nodding periodically she found her thoughts drifting to New York and the formal events she'd been obligated to attend there. While the conversations were slightly more entertaining than L.A., the dryness and droning had at times nearly been enough to put her to sleep. Mentally sighing she thought of the ways she used to cope with such evenings, unfortunately all ways involved a certain former, fellow prosecutor.

While such evenings were not her favourite thing in the world, she did tend to enjoy herself once there. But Mike he'd battle every invitation that was extended, with Jack finally enforcing that his appearance was mandatory. He'd sulk and whine like a child, making her wonder if he was indeed a fully grown man or a little child. Ultimately however, albeit begrudgingly, he'd concede that such hand shaking and smooth talking was a necessary evil of the job and make an appearance. What amazed her however, was the person he would become once there. Charismatic, charming, confident. She knew this shouldn't really surprise her considering the person he became in court, but it still did. They were each other's support at these events, saving one other from monotonous dialogue or from equally boring people. What she'd give to have Mike standing next to her right now.

Mentally shaking her head, she noticed the man had stopped speaking and was staring at her expectedly. Realising he'd ask her if she'd like another drink, she politely declined and was relieved to spot Detectives Jaruszalski and Morales standing in the corner. Walking over to them, she noticed that their facial expressions mirrored exactly how she felt, uncomfortable and tired.

"Good evening Counsellor" said Morales.

"Detectives" She nodded at them. "Enjoying your evening?"

"I guess" TJ said tugging on his tie. "It's a mystery why two lowly detectives are required to attend such a high society event but I'm not about to start arguing with the Lieutenant right now."

Laughing, Connie inquired about any further developments regarding their latest case.

"Nothing new yet. Still waiting to hear back from the M.E. Hopefully they will have something soon. Otherwise we're still stuck with a John Doe. Where's Dekker?"

"Over there talking to some politician. I think he's getting his head chewed out for 'disrespecting party lines' over the Webber case. I don't think Joe could care less about politics but Hardin dragooned him into making peace. So..." she shrugged.

The three stood in comfortable silence, surveying the scene surrounding them. In their line of work, such nights seemed trivial and insignificant in comparison to the horrors and hardships they saw and experienced each day. But each took comfort in seeing people enjoying themselves and knew that what they each did for a living was worth it.

Digging in her purse, Connie cursed aloud, ignoring the twin smirks on the detective's faces. She'd left her cell phone on her desk at work. She hoped her mother did not need her urgently for anything tonight. While her mother had improved significantly these past few months and was beginning to show signs of her old self, there were still moments of doubt.

Looking up she saw Joe walking towards them. His face while passive held a hint of sadness and concern.

"That bad huh? Never thought I'd see the day where you bowed down to a politician Joe."

Quickly glancing at Morales, Dekker instead turned towards Connie. "You don't have your phone on you?"

"No I must have left it at work. Why?" She started to panic. "Has something happened? Is it my mother? Is she all right?"

"Your mother? No," Dekker said shaking his head, "Connie, I just got off the phone from New York."


	2. Chapter 2

New York, a few days earlier.

Swinging his baseball bat, Mike stared at the white board on the wall of his office. It was the eve before trial, a high profile case which saw Mike taking first chair. As Bureau Chief of Special Victims, his job no longer found him in the court room, instead his days consisted of baby sitting ADAs and filling out mountains of paper work. The perks of being a bureaucrat.

This case had been a nightmare since the beginning. A young American woman involved in prostitution for the Russian Mafia, had been found raped and murdered; her body dumped in the Hudson River. Minimal evidence, all circumstantial, it all hinged on the testimony of a fellow girl enslaved in the prostitution ring. The Russian Mob, were fast becoming the most feared criminal enterprise in the United States and they wanted their force of power felt in New York at any cost. The mob were swiftly edging out all of their competitors, killing anyone who got in their way and law enforcement was powerless to stop them.

"Hey, I've returned bearing food". Casey Novak entered the office placing the chinese on the desk and proceeded to unpack the food. Grabbing a spring roll and settling in the chair, Casey noticed that Mike had not moved from where he was standing. "Mike? Food?"

"Huh? Oh right. In a minute."

"Everything all right?"

"Yeah. Just give me a minute". Nodding Casey turned her focus to the various stacks of paperwork in front her. Maybe this case had taken more than its toll on him than she thought. He was looking older and burnt out and while she had only worked with him for a couple of months, she'd seen the drastic changes. Mike was, well, an _interesting_ boss to work for. He had a reputation of being one SOB workaholic, who would do anything to protect the interests of justice. The stories she'd heard from his time as EADA confirmed that Mike was a one of a kind prosecutor, a passionate believer in truth and justice and the people of New York were lucky to have him on their side. But lately he seemed to have thrown everything but the kitchen sink into the job. She knew this was nothing new, the long hours, the constant pressure, but she still couldn't help but worry that this job was going to kill him.

"Uh Mike?" Startled Mike looked at Casey. "It's nearly 10pm. We're ready for trial tomorrow, do you mind if we finish for the night? Go home, get some rest?"

"Yeah, sorry lost track of time. Meet here in the morning to go over any final details?"

Nodding her head Casey grabbed her belongings pausing to say good night and walked out the door leaving Mike alone in his thoughts.

After a while, satisfied that all possible angles of attack were covered, Mike moved over to the table and grabbed a cold, leftover spring roll. Sinking into his desk chair, exhaustion threatened to consume him. He needed to get some rest before the trial, running on near empty was a recipe for disaster and while sleep had seemed to continually evade him for months, just lying down would perhaps help. Glancing at the clock he cursed silently realising it was one in the morning. Packing up his files and grabbing his suitcase, he walked silently to the elevator, noting sadly once again that he was the last in the office.

Tossing and turning, Mike sighed and rolled over to look at the clock. The bright red lights, declaring it to be 5:13, glared harshly in his eyes. He had slept for at least 2 hours and he wouldn't get anymore sleep than that. Rubbing his eyes he reluctantly rolled out of bed and proceeded to get ready for another day.

Catching a cab he was at the office in no time, quickly grabbing a cup of coffee from the break room before sitting down at his desk. Flicking through his pretrial notes he went through his usual motions before trial. He had never been much of a ritualistic, ordered guy, but lately through all the stress, the pain and the unknown, these little rituals gave him a sense of calm and control where he otherwise felt powerless. This job had become his life, had taken over every inch of his life and the worst part was he had let it. Sure he had been all about the job before, but it seemed every waking, and when he managed to sleep, sleeping, moment was dedicated to this job.

If he was to be honest with himself he knew why he'd let it- he was trying to fill the gaping hole he felt inside. The gaping hole left there by one Consuela Rubirosa. God he missed her. Thinking about her was honestly too much to bare and felt his heart breaking in two every time. He had never fallen this hard for anyone in his life. She was the one woman who could make him smile and laugh through anything, who made him happy, who supported him and who made him feel like a better man; and was the one woman he could never have nor now would ever have.

Mike took pride in his professionalism. He was strictly about work with his colleagues, never crossing the lines between his professional life and his personal life. But the moment Connie entered his life the lines immediately blurred. She was as that juror said, the total package. Intelligent, kind, funny, beautiful, professional, he felt something for her he never thought existed. He had never tried to hide that he thought she was attractive but certainly never acted past these feelings and never expected anything in return.

So he carried on like this for years, never letting himself see the truth. But after the Woll debacle, he had stopped denying it. He loved her plain and simple. It would be wrong to deny that Mike had felt jealous. He also thought that she would never be anything but professional with a colleague and at the time had caught himself, numerous times, thinking she just wouldn't do that with him. What a fool he was. Prepping her testimony for court he saw how distraught she was, how much she regretted her actions with Woll and Mike had realised just how much Woll had destroyed her. So instead he had supported her as the friend she had desperately needed him to be and faced the fact that unrequited love was his fate.

Somehow out of this, they had grown stronger as a team and closer as friends, and Mike had at times felt as though his feelings were reciprocated. But whatever had been developing between them had come to a crashing halt the moment Connie had received that phone call from Los Angeles and the point was now moot.

Noticing that people had started work for the day, he refocused his attention on the files situated in front of him, wondering where Casey was. She was suppose to be here half an hour ago for a final trial strategy review but she was nowhere to be seen. Calling out to a nearby A.D.A, they mentioned they had not seen Casey at all that morning and that her office light was still out. Feeling slightly annoyed, Mike picked up his blackberry, dialling her number. However before he could press ring, Casey burst through his door looking strickened and panicked.

"We have a problem Mike. Leila's missing!"

** Started writing this story with an idea in my head which of course morphed into something completely different. Funny how that happens. Pretty angsty, not particularly light and fluffy (which I was aiming for) but I still love it. Thanks for the reviews of the first chapter :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is longer than the past two. It's also darker. Please enjoy!**

The Choices We Make

Chapter Three

"What?"

"She's gone. The detectives went to pick her up from where she was staying and the door was off its hinges, the apartment's trashed and..." Casey faltered unable to continue. Mike looked at her expectantly. Clutching at her brief case she continued. "Mike, there was blood everywhere. The M.E. said. The M.E. said with that amount of blood loss there is little chance anyone could survive."

"Damn it!" Casey jumped at Mike's outburst. "What are the detectives doing? Where are they now? We need to find her, Leila's our only hope in this case."

"The detectives are canvassing the neighbourhood but it's not looking promising. Everyone's too afraid to talk."

"Of course they are!" Mike muttered sarcastically.

Any case involving the Russian mob was dangerous for anyone involved, but when you were prosecuting the head of the Russian mob that was a whole new level.

Slumping in his chair Mike slammed his hands on his desk. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He was the reason this had happened. He had pushed Leila into testifying. She had witnessed Anna Myles, the victim, being drugged and raped repeatedly before having her throat slit by Kirill Egorov the head of the russian mafia. Leila had managed to escape undetected and had anonymously alerted the police. Through sheer dumb luck the police had managed to track her down via an old cell phone and Mike had pressured her into testifying. All other evidence was circumstantial and her testimony was the only solid, direct evidence the prosecution had. Without her Egorov would walk and would continue to reign terror on the streets of New York.

Softly Casey broke through his thoughts. "Mike, we have to be in court in 15 minutes".

Breathing deeply, Mike gathered his thoughts, stuffing his files into his briefcase and robotically walked out the door, with Casey looking as equally disturbed trailing after him.

* * *

><p>"Good morning Counsellors. Let's get this show on the road shall we. Bring in the jury." said Judge Mayer.<p>

Standing Mike looked at the judge. "Ah Your Honour, the Prosecution wishes to ask for a continuance at this stage".

Jumping to his feet, defence attorney Alex Roberts exclaimed "Your Honour, that is just ridiculous, we haven't even started trial yet. You said we would start today, so the Prosecution should be ready! They can't keep stalling for time hoping to find more fabricated evidence to incriminate my client!"

"Enough Mr Roberts!" Judge Mayer said glaring at the attorney. Mob trials were enough of an ordeal without theatrical attorneys thrown into the mix. "Mr Cutter what seems to be the problem?"

"Your Honour, new evidence has come to light regarding our key witness and we need time to determine and consider this evidence".

Nodding his head, "Very well, since it's Friday and I have no idea why we scheduled to start this trial on a Friday, what were we using last year's calendar? You have until Monday morning, when we will start this trial. No ifs or buts about it Mr Cutter. Are we clear?"

"Yes your Honour"

"Your Honour!" Alex Roberts whined.

"Quit it Mr Roberts. You should be welcoming this opportunity. I shall see you all, 9 o'clock Monday morning".

As the judge exited the courtroom Mike stood and looked at the defendant, Kirill Egorov, who stood smirking back at Mike. Looking away Mike felt the inevitable sinking feeling.

Mike and Casey made it as quickly as possible back to the office, where Detectives Benson and Amaro were waiting for them.

Lacking the pleasantries, Mike cut to the chase "What have you got?"

"No physical evidence at the crime scene. Just blood which matches Leila's blood type. No witnesses remember seeing anything but noone's really talking", answered Detective Benson.

"That's it? That's all you have?" Yelled Mike interrupting the detective. "Our case hinges on Leila! We need to find her! God damn it do your jobs!" His voice cracking.

Glaring at Mike, Benson continued "But one witness said they remember seeing a silver sedan hanging around outside Leila's apartment. It was loitering next to the curb for a while".

"Well are you looking for it?" Mike asked curtly.

"No Counsellor we were just going to wait for the fairies to bring it to us!"

Squeezing his eyes shut, Mike forced down his anger and took a few deep breaths turning away from the detectives. The room was deathly silent until the ring of Amaro's cell cut through the silence.

"Amaro" He gruffly answered. "We're on our way". Looking at the other three people in the room he broke the news. "They found a body".

An hour later, Casey entered Mike's office while talking on her cell phone. "Thanks Liv. We'll be in touch." Hanging up she looked at Mike. "It's Leila's body. Two council workers found her in the trunk of a silver sedan on a vacant lot on Staten Island. She was beaten and raped and her throat..." swallowing hard Casey continued "was slit from ear to ear".

The two stared at each other despondently before Mike abruptly stood, grabbed his coat and swiftly swept out the door. "Mike!" Casey called out after him, but realised it would be of no use.

* * *

><p>The ride to Rikers was quick but tormenting. Mike was overcome with guilt. He shouldn't have pushed her, he shouldn't have forced her, she shouldn't be dead. But in his never ending pursuit of justice and his own selfish need to do something right in this world he had caused this horrific outcome. He had caused her to be murdered in cold blood. He felt sick.<p>

Walking fast down the corridor, he slowed as he approached the visitor cell, where Kirill Egorov was waiting for him. Entering he stared into the eyes of a stone cold murderer.

"Ahh Mr Cutter. What brings you here?"

"You know why I'm here"

"Leila. Yes I heard. What an unfortunate end to such a troubled girl. I liked her, she was such a pretty girl. Always did what you asked, never questioned a thing. Such a shame."

"I know you did it"

"I'm sorry Mr Cutter, but if you're referring to me killing her, you'd be sorely mistaken. For I've been stuck in this place for the last few months where you put me!" Egorov spat.

"I know you did this you son of a bitch and I will get you. You think you're untouchable with all your power and money but if there is one thing in life you shouldn't do, it's mess with me Mr Egorov, because nothing good ever comes of it" Mike cooly stated.

"Are you threatening _me_ Mr Cutter?"

Laughing coldly "No Mr Egorov I'm just giving you a glimpse of your future".

"Don't go down that road Mr Cutter, you don't even know the half of it. Guard!" Egorov yelled, dismissing Mike. Egorov stared maliciously at Mike before walking out of the cell.

Undisturbed Mike made his way back to the entrance, signing himself out before getting in a D.A. office car and driving back to Manhattan. Upon arriving at the D.A's office Mike made his way to his office, shutting his door so no one would disturb him. The office was relatively empty and he noticed a scribbled message from Casey saying she was tracking down leads with the detectives.

Trying to find a new angle on this case was going to be difficult and in little over 48 hours no less. Prosecutors had tried for years to convict Egorov however witness' would disappear, evidence would vanish or someone else would take the fall and the cases would always fall apart. But not this time, not on Mike's life.

After ringing the detectives and hearing no good news, Mike decided to call it a night. There was little he could do and catching up on a little sleep would probably best serve everybody. Packing up his things, he said good night to the few remaining A.D.A's in the office and entered the elevator. Stepping off the elevator he exited the building and made his way along the sidewalk taking in the cool chill in the air.

He loved New York in the fall, another thing he had in common with Connie. What he would do to have her here with him, especially during this case. He needed her ability and wisdom and had a sudden urge to need to see her smile. He let himself think about Connie and wondered what she was doing at this very moment.

Sighing, he saw the flash of something out of the corner of his eye. Turning towards the sight he found himself lying on the ground, cold as ice. He heard the spinning of car tyres, and a woman screaming for help. Connie's face flashed before his eyes before darkness overcame him.

* * *

><p>Shifting in the plane seat, TJ looked over at Connie as the plane began its descent into New York City. Connie looked a shadow of herself, dark circles under her eyes dominating her pale face as she hunched in her seat staring despondently out the small window. The last eight hours had clearly done a number on her and TJ stared worryingly at her.<p>

After disembarking from the plane and collecting their luggage, TJ grabbed Connie's hand and held her close making sure she didn't collapse. After Dekker had told Connie of the shooting she'd collapsed on the floor and then gone into business mode. Ringing a taxi to take her straight to the airport and rambling on about flight times. Morales had been the first to intervene, suggesting one of them needed to accompany her and TJ immediately volunteered. TJ in his car drove them quickly to their separate apartments, grabbing the essentials and drove straight to LAX, catching the next available flight out.

It wasn't until they were on the plane that it had seemingly sunk in. The true gravity of the situation.

Bureau Chief Michael Cutter of the Manhattan District Attorney's office had been gunned down and killed.


	4. Chapter 4

**In celebration of passing another year of uni (Yay!), here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

The Choices We Make

Chapter Four

* * *

><p>After securing a taxi, TJ directed them to the New York Downtown Hospital in Lower Manhattan. Connie sat frozen in her seat, blankly staring out into the city she use to call home.<p>

Leaving New York City had been one of the hardest decisions of her life; one she regretted most days. She hadn't left out of choice, she left out of obligation.

Her family meant the world to her and there was nothing she wouldn't do for them, including packing up her entire adult life and moving back across the country to her childhood home.

Her mother had asked for help and as the dutiful daughter she had come as summoned.

Focusing on the scenery out the window, she quietly gasped. The Manhattan skyline was truly one of a kind and nothing in L.A. could ever come close to rivaling it.

She'd never really appreciated the true beauty that was New York when she was here but her longing for this city had never been stronger.

When she left, she promised herself she would never come back, only until she had fully accepted and made peace with her decision. She never thought in a million years that she would return under these circumstances. Returning for a man who was without a doubt the biggest regret in her life and now would always be.

Not telling Mike how she felt, how she _truly_ felt about him, plagued her mind everyday. The number of times she wanted to ignore professionalism and say I love you were too many to count.

Marcus Woll had essentially destroyed any faith she had in men and while she dated men, which to be truthful was far and few in between, none came close to mending her heart. Until Mike Cutter.

She knew he was attracted to her from the start and despite her professionalism she was secretly please, who wouldn't be? But they maintained a professional relationship and while it did arguably progress into a more friendly relationship, the boundaries still remained and the lines were never crossed. Until Woll.

Secrets hidden for years had finally seem the light of day. Her deepest shame became the knowledge of her colleagues, the general public and Mike, the one man whose reaction she did not want to see.

Despite the initial awkwardness, and the bombshell delivered by Woll, they had somehow together, survived, overcome this hurdle and had become closer colleagues and friends.

She had however found herself fixated on what Woll had said that day, that she was breaking Mike's heart; ultimately implying that he loved her. She was dismissive and ignorant at the time of the damning truth and its consequences.

It was during these nights of fixation, where she'd replay that scene over and over again while contemplating her feelings and thoughts, that she came to the startling conclusion; she loved him. She'd never admit it to herself but she'd really fallen in love with him a long time ago. But despite of their close friendship and her love for him, professionalism continually won. Her fear always won.

Why she was back in New York, she couldn't acknowledge the truth. It would only make it more real and surrealism was a better world right now. Where she could live in her head and play 'what if' scenarios in her head. What if she'd never left? What if she'd stayed in contact more? What if she'd told him that she loved him?

"Connie?" TJ gently said, breaking Connie out of her haunting thoughts. "We're here at the hospital".

Looking at him she noticed her eyes were moist and felt her cheeks stained with tears. She'd been crying and she hadn't even realised. Nodding at TJ, she saw him pay the driver, passing her a tissue before getting out of the cab. She swallowed, wiping the tears off her face and dabbing her eyes. Opening the door she numbly climbed out of the cab as she steadied herself against TJ. She was glad he'd come with her, he had become a true friend in L.A., one she trusted with her life and he more than anyone knew what she was going through right now.

What she couldn't understand, was why they were at the hospital, when Mike was... She couldn't say it.

She vaguely recalled Dekker mentioning something about the Russian mob, this being a targeted hit, the D.A. office being searched for bombs or weapons or the like and something about security measures.

They made their way into the hospital, where they were directed to the surgical floor. She tried to stop her brain from registering the fact that he'd made it that far, he'd made it to surgery. But that wasn't enough.

"Connie?"

"TJ" she felt her hand being squeezed. She'd stopped walking. She stared at the sterile, white walls, at the sign declaring 'Surgery Floor, Level One'. The moment she walked through that door, this was real. This nightmare was real. Gently coaxed by TJ she followed him through the door, holding onto his arm for dear life, fearing what awaited her on the other side.

There were people everywhere, faces she did not know. Hospital staff, police officers, D.A. workers, she scanned the faces in vain looking for any one she recognised.

It was then that she registered Detectives Lupo and Bernard slowly approaching her. The world seemed to stop spinning has she saw the pain and anguish covering their faces. It seemed like the whole room had gone quiet and was looking at her. Indeed it had.

Still grasping TJ, she looked straight at Cyrus, begging him with her eyes to not confirm the truth.

"I" Cyrus faltered. What could he say? "I'm sorry".

The tears began falling swiftly and hard. She turned towards TJ and clutched at his chest as he engulfed her in his arms. Lupo and Bernard stood there looking at the scene before them, until hearing their names being called by a doctor. Turning they walked back leaving Connie unconsolable in her grief.

"Ah doc. You mind telling us what happened over there" Bernard said pointing towards Connie and her male companion. It was only right that she hear everything first. She might not work or live in New York, but she would always be one of them and would always be Mike's partner.

The three moved slowly and cautiously towards the duo.

"Connie, this is Doctor Luke Jennings, the attending surgeon" explained Lupo. Connie extended her hand, shaking his hand.

"Detective Tomas Jaruszalski" introducing himself.

"It was touch and go there for a while. His injuries are severe. A bullet punctured his right lung and as a result it collapsed and another was lodged in his abdomen, but it seems he's out of the woods. He's one hell of a fighter."

The doctor's words bounced around in her mind, she didn't understand. "What?" she heard herself asking.

"His injuries are severe and he's still in a critical condition, but he's going to survive." The doctor smiled. Connie collapsed to the floor.

* * *

><p><strong>Ooooooo. I just couldn't do it. Nearly did but I just couldn't do it. <strong>


	5. Chapter 5

The Choices We Make

Chapter Five

Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself looking into the pale, blue eyes of the doctor. His eyes very much reminded her of Mike's whose were definitely more brighter, more brilliant.

Mike! she thought. Struggling to sit up, she felt a pair of strong hands gently pushing her back down.

"Ms Rubirosa, you need to remain lying down. You just fainted on the floor. I'm going to check your blood pressure and then I need you to drink this. Do you understand Ms Rubirosa?"

Slightly nodding she returned the doctor's gaze. Her mind immediately returning to her last thoughts. "Mike" she whispered, "I don't understand? I thought he was dead."

"Oh no Ms Rubirosa. He's in a critical but stable condition and we currently have him in the ICU but all signs look positive. He's definitely fighting for something- or someone" Doctor Jennings said winking at her.

"When can I see him?"

"Unfortunately not for a while. Visitors are not generally allowed in the ICU due to health precautions for the patients." Noting her look of despair he added "But I'll see what I can do. Now Ms Rubirosa can you sit up slightly so I can check you over."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile Casey stood inside the 27th precinct blowing into her third cup of hot coffee for the morning, willing for the caffeine to kick in soon. The night had been hell.<p>

Since receiving the call about the shooting, Casey and Detectives Lupo, Bernard, Amaro and Benson had worked tirelessly throughout the night, trying to find any shred of a lead that would help them understand why this had happened.

Rubbing her eyes she thought of Mike, she'd just heard that he was out of surgery and that the prognosis was good but it was still touch and go. She wondered if this had anything to do with his sudden disappearance on Friday.

He was clearly shaken up by what had happened to Leila, they all were, but she knew that he'd taken it personally. She could see the guilt eating away at him. Where had he gone? She'd seen him return about 3 hours later, with a familiar glint in his eyes striding, like a man on a mission, through the corridors of the building before locking himself in his office.

A few hours later he was shot.

"Casey" turning she found herself face to face with the new District Attorney Phillip Morris and a third man.

Morris was a tall, broad shouldered man who had a handsome face. While he was a force to be reckoned with in his own quiet, resilient way, he was certainly no Jack McCoy. But the D.A. office was in more than capable hands.

"What have we got?"

"We found the black SUV involved in the shooting."

Just before dawn, after hours of having nothing, they'd had a change of luck. A black SUV had been observed by cameras running a red light five blocks north of Hogan's Place, giving the police a clear look at the licence plate. The SUV matched the description of the vehicle seen by witnesses at the crime scene. The police moved fast locating it in an abandoned parking lot and scoured it for evidence.

"Forensics came up clean. Never seen a cleaner car."

D.A. Morris groaned.

"We're missing something though. We have to be. Without Leila, our case was shot, er pardon the pun, we had nothing. Egorov was going to walk. Why would he order the hit? He wasn't gaining anything."

"We don't know that for certain" interjected the third man Deputy DA James Steele, noticing Casey's questioning looks he elaborated, "Egorov ordering the hit I mean."

"Oh come on are you kidding me?" Casey said narrowing her eyes at Steele.

"Casey, just because you two were prosecuting a mob boss does not necessarily mean he was the one who ordered the hit. I'm sure Cutter has many enemies out there."

"You're really defending a mobster?"

"No but you have no proof, no evidence. You said it yourself, Egorov has no motive to want to harm Cutter, he has nothing to gain from his death!"

"Except some form of sick twisted pleasure. You've never met the man Steele. He's as cold and ruthless as they come. You have no idea what he's capable of. Those girls, what they went through, what countless others have probably been through..." she said trailing off quietly.

She may have been away from the game for a few years but she hadn't completely lost it.

These cases were still just as chilling and sickening as her very first case. She'd never forget holding that little girl in her arms after she rescued her from that esky.

She still wanted to fight like hell for each and everyone of them.

To this day she still found herself constantly questioning Arthur Branch's sanity when he'd placed her in Special Victims, but she knew he was right, it took a special type of person for this job and she was it.

And Mike was it too. Sure his reputation as an EADA in the homicide bureau was legendary, his record was unequaled, unparalleled- except perhaps by the great McCoy, but there was no denying that Mike had found his calling as a special victims prosecutor.

His passion and unwavering desire to seek the truth and ensure justice was served, best benefited the victims of these horrific and devastating crimes. Ordeals that were too traumatic, that many were never reported, forever buried, hidden within the depths of the subconscious never to be spoken about. Ordeals that many victims would never fully recover from, their lives changed forever. And Mike understood that.

He understood what these victims had gone through; what they were going through. He understood the sensitive and precarious nature that this job entailed.

These were crimes that were crying for attention, they needed a voice.

Mike was that voice.

She needed to talk to him urgently he would know what to do, see what they were missing.

She needed to talk to him urgently, him and his damn bat.

* * *

><p><em>Christmas eve was always an eventful time at his house. A time full of wonder and magic, love and thankfulness. But not this year. <em>

_Walking into the living room, he saw his daughter lying on the floor under the tree gazing up at the lights. _

_She had always done this, ever since she was a little girl. _

_Once __he__'__d __asked __her __why __she __did __it __and __she__'__d __answered __in __her __innocent_ _way, __her __voice __full __of __wonder,__ "__It__'__s __the __best __way __to __see __the __tree __Daddy. __It__'__s __magical!__" _

_And __it __was._

_Lying down next to her they both lay there comfortably looking up at the twinkle of the lights. _

_Despite the hells of the past year, the tree and its magic was still the same._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Detectives Lupo and Bernard sat slumped in their chairs, glumly looking at the progress, or lack of progress more like it that they'd made.

It had been three days since Mike's shooting and they had nothing, absolutely nothing. The detectives had come to an agreement with their SVU counterparts that their case interests should be kept separate to ensure nothing was missed and to ensure their own judgments and feelings remained neutral to disallow any unnecessary contamination of their thought processes.

Bernard and Lupo continued their investigation into Mike's attempted murder, while Benson and Amaro continued to scour back through the evidence of their case looking for anything they'd missed or overlooked the first time round.

What continued to puzzle the detectives though was _why_ Mike was shot. Motive was an essential part of any crime, especially murder, and without it all that was left was random facts and dots without the connecting line. The proverbial smoking gun.

There was no apparent previous connection between Mike and Egorov, and any motive related to Mike's prosecution of the boss was moot as the D.A. had since dropped all charges against the crime lord. There was simply just no motive.

Bernard sat up straighter as his phone rang, listening to the caller intently he hung looking directly at his partner. "Lupes we might have something. They found a partial print on the seat lever of the SUV. Ran it through the system nothing, but ran it through Interpol and they got a hit."

"Who?" Lupo immediately asked.

"A Thomas Green. Wanted in a few different countries for murder, including this country."

"Great a professional hitman. We're never going to find him."

"Well Lupes it's our lucky day, because guess who was just spotted trying to leave at JFK."

Smiling at each other both immediately jumped out of their chairs, briefly stopping for their coats before racing out the door.

* * *

><p>While the detectives were racing across town<strong>,<strong> Connie stood gazing through the glass window into the hospital room that housed Mike. He looked so defenceless, so helpless with all the tubes and wires and machines surrounding his body. Despite the trauma he'd undergone, his face looked so innocent and young, the heavy burdens of the past few months lifted from his face.

She desperately needed to touch him and hold him; reassure herself that he was real; alive. She needed to hear his sweet voice, to feel the warmth that spread through her body while staring into his eyes. She wanted to whisper in his ear that she loved him, and kiss him gently on the lips.

* * *

><p>Detective Bernard groaned loudly, rubbing his hand behind his neck. They were getting no where- Green refused to talk. After picking him up at the airport, they had brought him back to the precinct, where he had sat blankly staring at the interrogation wall, ignoring all subsequent attempts of conversations by the detectives.<p>

"We need to get him to talk. What if we offer him a deal?"

"A deal Detective Bernard? No chance in hell. He's a known hitman, with what it now seems to be numerous murders under his belt and who nearly killed my A.D.A." D.A. Morris answered dismissively.

"He's looking at the death penalty in some of these jurisdictions? What if we guarantee he won't get the death penalty?" asked Lupo.

"Doubt it would make a difference" answered Jim Steele. "Look at him, he's a stone cold killer."

"Suggest it anyway" decided Morris. "We need him to give up Egorov."

Turning away Detectives Lupo and Bernard reentered the interrogation room, leaving Morris and Steele intently watching on.

"Mr Green. We've matched your gun to at least a dozen homicides in the continental U.S. We haven't even heard back from Interpol. It doesn't look good for you." Lupo stated coldly. Green continued to stare at the wall.

"You're looking at the death penalty. You give us what we want, we can try and get the death penalty off the table" reasoned Bernard.

Suddenly Green began laughing manically. He turned and looked at Lupo straight in the eyes. "You're too late", he continued to laugh, this time turning his gaze on Bernard. Then without warning his body began to convulse and he began foaming at the mouth.

"What has he taken? What has he done? Call a paramedic!" Yelled Bernard, as the two observers burst into the room.

"Cyanide. He's taken bloody cyanide" Lupo whispered forcefully. There was nothing they could do but watch their only hope die in front of their eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

In the morgue, Lupo and Bernard stood motionless, anxiously awaiting for any news about their suspect Green from the M.E.

Calling the detectives into the room, M.E. Rogers gave them a look.

"Well he clearly died from cyanide. Seizures cardiac arrest, pink tinge to the skin, not to mention there were traces in his tox screen."

"Anything useful Doc?" asked Bernard.

"On his body? No. But I did find this piece of paper in his clothing. I love riddles but even I couldn't figure this out."

"Real sudoku fan are we?" Bernard asked smirking, taking the piece of paper from her.

"SR1226238NC7/14. Nup, No idea. Lupes?"

Lupes shook his head in reply.

"Sorry I couldn't be more help"

The detectives murmured their thanks leaving the morgue just as anxious as they were when they arrived.

Arriving back at the precinct and after speaking to their lieutenant, they turned their focus to the mysterious message encrypted on the piece of paper.

"A bank account?"

"Nah, too long"

"Offshore bank account?"

"Still too long."

"Since when are you the expert in bank accounts?"

Lupo shot his partner a look of annoyance.

"Yeah..."

The detectives continued brainstorming, each idea leaving them more frustrated than the next.

Once again they were getting nowhere and once again had nothing. The story of their lives.

* * *

><p>Oblivious to the world around her, Connie stood like a statute staring at Mike lying in the bed. It had been five days, and while there were slight improvements, he still had not woken and still needed a tube to assist his breathing. She could feel herself breaking, she was exhausted but she could not leave him alone. He looked so small and fragile.<p>

"Connie?" she turned towards the sound, noticing a figure cautiously approaching her.

"Jack?"

"How are you kid?" Not waiting for an answer, he pulled her towards him, wrapping his arms around her in a hug. They stood there for a moment, silently gaining strength from each other before they slowly pulled apart.

She looked at Jack, shrugging her shoulders before turning back to look at Mike. "When was the last time you ate?"

She vaguely recalled eating something yesterday but she hadn't had much of an appetite lately. She made a non committal sound, feeling Jack's hand lightly gripping her shoulder. "Let's go get you something to eat. No arguments Connie. You need a break."

They made their way to a small coffee shop located down the street from the hospital. After purchasing two large cups of coffee and an assortment of sandwiches, they made their way to a small booth in the back.

Since resigning as D.A., Jack had taken the opportunity to visit his daughter in Florida and to do a bit of traveling. He was in Frankfurt, Germany when he had received the news. There was no doubt that Mike was a pain in the foot sometimes and he regularly figured this was karma collecting for all the headaches he caused as his time as E.A.D.A., but he was fond of Mike and even considered him as a surrogate son. He didn't want to see someone he cared about like this.

While he was gravely concerned for Mike, he knew things were looking optimistic and the chance of recovery was increasing everyday. However for the moment, at least right now, his attention was focused squarely on the woman seated across from him. He didn't know what to think. She looked deathly pale, her eyes were sunken, she had clearly not been sleeping and he knew for a fact that she had not left the hospital once. He was alarmed by the bones protruding through her skin, she had lost weight which was a worry since she was a thin woman to begin with.

After finishing her coffee, Connie began picking at her sandwich. She felt Jack's gaze burning into her skin and to appease him she half heartedly ate a small bite of her sandwich. They sat in comfortable silence as she ate a little more before she could no longer stomach it.

"I'm glad you're here Jack." she whispered softly, so softly that Jack nearly missed it.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner. How are you Connie? And please be truthful you owe me that much".

Looking at Jack she realised there would be no point in lying he knew her better than anyone else- except Mike. "I'm... I don't know Jack. I look at him lying there and I don't know what to do. I can't do anything" she looked forlornly at him. "I never told him", her eyes now full of unshed tears. She dropped her gaze and continued picking at her food.

He sighed, there it was the ultimate truth. The elephant in the room. The elephant in the room that had been there since they had started working together.

You'd be a fool not to see it. The longing looks, the innocent touches, the signs were all there. But both were the consummate professional and he knew both would never dare cross that line.

In a way he was relieved, they were the dynamic duo, a force to be reckoned with, they got results and as selfish as it sounded he didn't want anything to ruin that. So he watched them, oblivious to each other's feelings, languishing in their own supposed unrequited feelings, maintain a professional relationship, never pushing for more, not even friendship, in the fear that it would all unravel and come crashing down.

Until Woll. He knew he didn't know half of what went on during that case, but he now knew where Mike stood and by the end, realised Connie was standing in the exact same place. He knew it was killing them not to admit their feelings and despite their renewed closeness and friendship, it was not enough. It would either unite them or destroy them and it seemed the latter prevailed.

Towards the end of their working partnership, the pressures of the job and the ambiguous nature of their relationship got to them, ultimately accumulating in Connie departing New York. Jack knew she didn't want to leave, but perhaps it was for the best. Mike and Connie couldn't continue like this, it was unfair on themselves, they needed to live their lives and the only way to do that was away from each other.

Connie had started squirming in her seat, he knew she wanted to get back to the hospital and it would be cruel of him to deny that to her. They pulled on their coats and walked through the door, arriving in no time back at the hospital. On arrival in the recovery ward, it seemed to be in a flurry of activity.

"What's going on?" Jack inquired.

"I'm sorry Sir, we can't let that information out."

Jack turned to look at Connie, but immediately noticed she wasn't standing next to him. Instead she had raced over to Mike's room, looking for a doctor or a nurse, anybody to tell her what had happened.

"Connie" It was an older nurse, who very much reminded Connie of her mother and who had taken to looking after her while she was here. She looked at Alice expectantly. "He woke up, but he's gone back to sleep", she saw the look of despair and sadness on Connie's face, "but he's breathing on his own now and we're transferring him to a recovery room."

Connie wrapped her arms around her torso, too relieved to say anything but thank you. She'd missed him waking up but he was out of the worst of it.

* * *

><p><strong>He's awoken up! The next parts are going to start getting very heavy on the case and why this has all happened.<strong>

**I hope you all have a Merry Christmas! :D **


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